Between Fathers and Sons
by moon71
Summary: Alexander finds it difficult to love his father Philip, but Hephaestion worships him. Will their opposing views of the king and the secrets hidden behind them finally drive them apart? Alexander X Hephaistion COMPLETE
1. SON

**BETWEEN FATHERS AND SONS**

**SUMMARY: **Alexander doesn't find it easy to love his father Philip, but Hephaestion worships him. Will their opposing views and the secrets hidden behind them finally drive them apart?

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine, what would I do with a couple of angst-ridden teenagers?

**RATING: **T for some mild sexy bits and a bit of violence in later chapters.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This story obviously has no continuity with any of my others, not least because it starts by "killing of" one person I've spent a good amount of time developing. Don't let it bother you; death is not forever in the fiction world and after all, we really know nothing of Hephaestion's family life. I usually write my fics as complete short stories and don't divide them up unless they're exceptionally long, like "the ivory eros," but this one had a curiously episodic feel so I've split it up. (And no it's not a cynical ploy to try and get more reviews…!)

**TO CORAL DAWN: **Squabbling boys at your service.

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**CHAPTER 1 : _SON_**

They were sitting in the garden when the horsemen rode up. Certain one of them must his father back at last, Hephaestion sprang up eagerly and ran towards them, ignoring his mother's warning call. He stopped short some feet away from the new arrivals as they dismounted. One was short and stocky with a hard, sunburnt face and coarse sandy hair; the other was taller but moved with a pronounced limp; he kept his head bent, the hood of his riding cloak drawn up over his head.

Overcoming his disappointment that neither was his father, Hephaestion was about to greet the strangers when his mother, who had been busily shooing his sisters into the house, cried as if in disbelief, _"Laius!"_

"Joy to you, Helena," the fair haired man spoke in a deep, husky voice, his weather-beaten countenance softening to a look of deep warmth and compassion. Confused, Hephaestion glanced from him to his mother, whose dark eyes had suddenly seemed unnaturally large and bright, as if she was suffering from a fever.

"It is not joy you bring me, is it Laius," she said very softly.

"May we go inside?"

"Mother…!" Hephaestion protested as the man called Laius came closer and took hold of her arm, but before he could follow them indoors, a hand came down on his shoulder and he spun around.

"Hephaestion, son of Amyntor, I must talk to you." The taller man had removed his hood at last. Hephaestion gasped as he looked up into his face. His first reaction to it was that no man so ugly could mean him any good. His bearded face was worn and scarred and one of his eyes was missing, replaced by a dreadful mess of puckered, discoloured skin. But his other eye was darkly brilliant as it explored both of Hephaestion's and there was something about his manner, his very presence that spoke of confidence and authority.

"Who are you?" Hephaestion demanded, angered by the tremble in his own voice, knowing his mother would disapprove of his rudeness to an elder but seized by a growing panic. "Do – do you bring news of my father?"

"I do," the man said quietly, "but it is not good news. How old are you, Hephaestion?"

"Eleven," Hephaestion replied stiffly, "nearly twelve."

"You look older – nearly a man. Well, I am going to ask you to be one." The man sat down on the wooden bench Hephaestion's mother and sisters had just vacated, drawing the boy down beside him. "It is my duty to tell you that your father is dead."

"No…" Hephaestion felt a dizzy sickness rising through his body. He bent over, fighting back the nausea, moaning softly as he felt the man hesitantly begin to stroke his hair. Determined not to make a fool of himself, he straightened with difficulty and forced himself to look his visitor in the face.

"Hephaestion, we have never met, but my name is Philip. Your father worked for me… lost his life in my service. He was also my friend."

"Worked for… no, my father doesn't work for anyone, he's a farmer, a landlord, we live off our estate…"

Slowly, patiently, the man called Philip talked. Hephaestion listened as carefully as he could, knowing that though none of it made any sense now, later, some time his head was not spinning, his heart was not aching and his eyes not blinded with tears, if that time ever came, he might be able to recall it and reason it all out and when he did every one of these words would be as precious to him as gold.

"I owe your father… and your family… a sacred debt, my child," Philip finished at last, "rest assured I shall never forget it. You will be taken care of. Laius will see to everything."

"Laius – he's alone with my mother!" Hephaestion cried suddenly, "who is he?"

"A veteran of the highest standing, several years retired," Philip replied firmly, "and a kinsman of your mother. Don't worry, he's known to her. Your father himself insisted that… should anything happen… Laius should be the one to come to her."

"No!" Hephaestion shouted, jumping up, "no, if my father is dead, _I_ am the man of this house, _I _should make the decisions, we don't need anyone else, we…"

"Hephaestion," Philip said quietly, looking up at him with tenderness so unexpected on such a battle-scared face that Hephaestion was quite overcome. Unable to stop the shaking of his body, he sank back down again and buried his face in his hands, ashamed of the sobs which broke from him. Philip had told him to be a man; here he was crying like a child. But Philip only rubbed his large hand across Hephaestion's back in slow, soothing strokes and said again and again how sorry he was.

oooo

"I'm thirteen years old, Mother!" Hephaestion protested loudly, pacing angrily across the kitchen, "I'm old enough to think for myself! I don't need you and Laius telling me what to do!"

"Hephaestion, that is enough," Laius said in the low, firmly commanding tone which seemed to work so much more effectively than yelling, "you know better than to address your mother in that disrespectful tone. If you really are ready to be a man and not a boy, then you should remember that men resolve their problems by _reasoning, _not by screaming like spoilt brats."

Hephaestion rounded angrily on his kinsman, glaring into the pale blue eyes which were always so knowing, so gently mocking, as if there was nothing Hephaestion could do or say that could surprise him or change his mind. Then he looked over at his mother who was glancing unhappily from her son to her cousin and back again. Finally he sat down again, folding his arms sulkily.

He did not know why he so frequently lost his temper around Laius – the man had been nothing but kind to him and his sisters since the terrible news of their father's death and it was obvious his mother valued his counsel and his company. That first horrible shock had been quickly followed by another one – for their own safety they were to leave their estate outside Athens and move north to one on the outskirts of Macedon. It was bigger, true, and the land seemed better, but they had left behind all of their friends and neighbours, even most of their servants, almost everyone and everything that they knew and cared for.

Perhaps, Hephaestion thought guiltily, he was taking his anger out on Laius because he did not want to direct it to Philip. Philip, who Laius had later explained was none other than King Philip of Macedon. After that first day Hephaestion had never expected to see him again, but the king had visited them several times – visited _him,_ more accurately. His mother and sisters usually greeted Philip politely and then retreated shyly to their own parlour. Philip would question him about his studies with the pedagogue he had arranged, about his riding and fighting skills, consulting him as one would a man about the marriages being arranged for his sisters, both of whom were a good few years older than Hephaestion and of age. Sometimes Philip would also talk about Amyntor, about his loyalty, cleverness and courage. And as he would listen, Hephaestion would gaze into Philip's face and wonder how he could ever have dismissed this strong, charismatic man as ugly and therefore evil. No day went by when Hephaestion did not long for news that it was all a terrible mistake, that Amyntor was really alive, only captured or badly injured somewhere, though his mother and his pedagogue had warned him against defying or arguing with the will of the gods. Philip could never replace his father, but he filled a little of the void left behind. In the first agonising months after the Amyntor's death, Hephaestion had pestered Laius again and again for stories of Philip's great bravery and cunning in battle, about the phalanx, the sarrissas and the siege engines he employed.

"I don't belong here anymore," Hephaestion finally said quietly.

"Hephaestion, what a thing to say!" his mother cried, "this is your _home,_ we are your _family!_ You're still only a boy – yes you _are,_ Hephaestion, don't look at me like that! It has been hard for us, for all of us, none of us feel quite at home yet, but we've told you, this _is_ your home, you're a Macedonian, just like your father and I!"

"I don't want to hurt you, Mother," Hephaestion replied, "but…" he met Laius' eye once more, then looked away with a frown.

"I am not trying to take your father's place, Hephaestion," Laius told him firmly.

"I – I know," Hephaestion answered reluctantly. "But…"

"But you're young and bored and restless and you've noticed there's more to the world than this farm," Laius cut in with infuriating accuracy, turning slowly to Hephaestion's mother and to Hephaestion's silent indignation, putting his hand over hers. "Helena, it's natural for him to feel like this, I was no different at his age! Why don't I talk to the King, see what he…"

"No!" Sharp, unreasoning fury rose in Hephaestion as he sprang up once more, "no, I don't need you to speak for me! If I need anything I'll see to it myself!"

Ignoring his mother's protests, he stormed out of the house.

oooo

He spent several hours roaming the furthest fields of the estate, torn between defiance and guilt. If only Philip was his guardian instead of Laius, _he _wouldn't stand in his way! Laius had meant to be kind, he supposed, but he wasn't Philip; besides, Hephaestion did not like the closeness between Laius and his mother, the affectionate looks his mother bestowed on her kinsman, the way the two of them stood side by side against Hephaestion when she should be taking her son's part in everything! His sisters simply didn't understand – they were devoted to Laius, grateful for his support and his protection of their mother. "You don't know what it's like," they told him, "it's different for you, you'll become a man and leave home and she'll be alone!" He didn't like to think about what they were suggesting so he refused to listen.

When he finally came back, tired, hungry and dispirited, he heard voices in the kitchen and hung back, listening. "… frightened for him, Laius!" he heard his mother's voice, "I know King Philip has been good to us, I _know_ Amyntor loved him, but one hears… stories… the drinking, the women… the _boys…"_

"Philip is a man of strong appetites, Helena, nobody would deny it, least of all him, but he is not the witless, drunken thug his enemies portray, Amyntor would never have devoted himself to him if he was!"

"Laius, I know I'm only a woman, but I am not deaf or blind! Hephaestion is a handsome boy and quite unworldly… _you_ know what I fear! If it was just an older man showing interest… but King Philip…! As it is, Hephaestion is far too fond of him, too familiar with him, I know he doesn't mean anything by it, but does the King? The Gods forgive me, but I don't _trust _him!"

Rage swelled within him. He didn't quite understand all she was suggesting, but he knew it was not kind to Philip and her treachery stung him. H said nothing of it when he joined them for supper and apologised meekly for his conduct, but he had made up his mind.

oooo

Pella was a crowded, colourful town, both exciting and intimidating. With some difficulty Hephaestion found his way to the palace and made his way up the steps where he explained his mission to one of the guards. He was not unkind but nor was he very reassuring. He told Hephaestion the King was in council and would probably be there all day and he should come back on a day when he was holding an open audience for petitioners. Hephaestion suspected it was the disappointment which must have shown on his face that made the man relent and promise to pass on his request.

Feeling lonely and despondent, he made his way down to the public courtyard. After an hour of sitting, bored and lonely, in the blazing sun, he began to explore. Nobody stopped him so he wandered further and further, coming across a small, elegantly planted garden rich with the scent of summer roses.

Hephaestion blinked as he caught sight of a boy sitting in the corner, engrossed in a book. The boy seemed so still and so perfect that for a moment Hephaestion thought he was looking at a carefully painted statue. He was smaller than Hephaestion and of slighter build, plainly dressed with golden-blonde hair and fine, sensitive features, the only flaw being a faint frown of concentration creasing his pale brow.

Suddenly the boy looked up.

"Joy to you, my friend," Hephaestion said eagerly, giving him a friendly smile, "my name is Hephaestion, son of Amyntor. What are you reading?"

"What are you doing here?" the boy demanded, his frown deepening as his grey eyes settled coldly upon Hephaestion, "this is a private garden!"

"I – I'm sorry," Hephaestion replied, startled by the imperious manner. His annoyance was checked by the realisation he might well be trespassing. "I didn't know, I… I've never been to Pella before, I was hoping to… well, anyway, I was on my own and I didn't have anyone to talk to, and seeing as you're on your own too…"

"I came here to be on my own," the boy answered coldly.

Hephaestion scowled. "Then I'm sure the gods will grant you your wish," he grunted, turning on his heel. As he retreated in a heavy sulk he wondered absently if he had just insulted the son of anyone important. But surely King Philip would understand. Beauty wasn't always good; surely he should have learnt that lesson by now!

"_Wait!"_ Hephaestion stopped as he heard soft footsteps behind him. A very warm hand touched him lightly on the shoulder and he turned to look down at the blonde boy. "I should not have been rude," the boy said with regal condescension, "but you surprised me. This _is_ a private garden."

"Then I'm sorry and I'll go at once."

"No, don't! I mean…" the boy hesitated, his fair skin colouring pink. "Let's start again. Joy to you, Hephaestion, son of Amyntor. My name is Alexander. Come and sit with me… where are you from, Hephaestion?"

"My family is from Macedon," Hephaestion answered after a moment's hesitation, remembering the warnings his mother and King Philip had given him once he had learned the truth about his father, "but we had a farm outside Athens for some years. Now we have one some miles south of here, it's bigger than the old one, but… it's not quite the same. I mean, I hardly know anyone and our neighbours' children are all either babies or grown up and… well anyway, I don't care about farming, so I want to see if I can join the army. I think King Philip is wonderful, don't you? Do you think he'll really attack Persia?"

Alexander did not respond for a long time, staring down pensively at the book in his lap. "Do you know Xenephon?" he asked suddenly.

"I've… heard of him," Hephaestion answered slowly, sitting down beside Alexander and looking at the book he held out.

"There's so much to learn from him if you want to be a good soldier. One day, when I'm a General…" Alexander suddenly began to talk so rapidly Hephaestion had trouble keeping up with him, let alone getting a word in edgeways. Did this boy _really _want to be on his own? "I'm… glad you came," Alexander said suddenly, looking up into Hephaestion's eyes with such intensity that Hephaestion found it difficult to breathe. "I feel like I've been waiting for someone like you for years…"

"You hardly know me," Hephaestion chuckled, trying to lighten the other's mood.

"I know, but… I've got lots of other friends, but they don't… you really seem to be _listening_ to me."

Hephaestion shook his head, both charmed and bewildered. "How quickly you change, Alexander… I don't think I can keep up with you!"

As Alexander was about to reply, Hephaestion suddenly remembered why he had come in the first place and jumped to his feet.He had been about to tell Alexander everything but now he hesitated, wondering what this boy would think about him wanting to see King Philip. "I'm… supposed to be waiting for someone, could we go back to the big courtyard…?"

Alexander frowned slightly, as if disappointed, but he nodded and led the way.

oooo

Philip took a long, slow drink of wine as he listened to the guard's message. "You say he's out in the courtyard? You mean the poor little bugger's been sitting there all day?" He gave a wheezy laugh and got to his feet. "He'll have sunstroke!"

"He may've cleared off by now, you know what boys are like, Sire," the guard suggested, "should I go and check?"

"No, leave it, I'll go myself in a minute, you can go." Rising slowly, rubbing his injured leg which had stiffened during the time he had been sitting around through the council meeting, Philip drained the last of his wine and went over to the window overlooking the courtyard. There was Amyntor's boy sure enough; talking to someone apparently, though Philip could not see who from the angle he was seated at. At least he hadn't been sitting there alone all this time.

A handsome boy indeed, tall, strong, the perfect Greek beauty. But then Amyntor had been a very handsome man. Dear Amyntor… the gods were jealous and cruel, robbing men of the best friends they had. Death was a common reality for Philip and he had learned not to be sentimental about it, or about life for that matter. He had killed members of his own family, would do it again if he had to and without blinking. If one gave into sentiment, one became weak. And the weak ended up enslaved – or dead.

All the same, there was something comforting in the adoring looks Hephaestion bestowed on him the few times he was able to spare time to visit him. To visit Amyntor's family, really, yet it was Hephaestion Philip most enjoyed seeing. That was how a son should look at his father, how he should behave in his company – respectfully, submissively, admiringly. The way Alexander had once looked at Philip – before Olympias had filled his mind with her poison, with her wild dreams of divine paternity, all the better to detach the boy from his real father. Philip sighed wearily. One couldn't blame that magnificent bitch for everything; Macedon itself had come between them, just as he always knew it would. Alexander might have inherited his mother's fiery passions, her desperation for devotion and love, her sensitivity to any slights, but it was from Philip that he got his ambition, his cunning, his dreams of glory – and his love of intrigue. And, Philip thought with a certain satisfaction, his charm.

Alexander certainly had charm; Philip could not deny it, even if the boy was something of a prig, not to mention a prude, too easily offended by rough talk and lewd behaviour. He needed to get himself laid, sooner rather than later. He couldn't see Alexander consenting to be anyone's _eromenos_ in the traditional Greek sense, but maybe in a year or two he might take an interest in another boy, or get himself a woman. Perhaps then he'd stop listening to his mother's complaints and turning his nose up at his father's women!

There was still plenty of time for Philip to gain back ground he had lost – if he didn't get called away on campaign for a while, if there were no political problems he had to sort out, if… if…if…

He looked again at Hephaestion. Yes, he really was a beauty. And it wasn't as if the boy was unwilling, only innocent, isolated on that farm the way he was. There was plenty of time for him too. Philip could give him another year or two, treat him kindly and encourage him gently. It would be wrong to destroy what was beautiful and pure by being impatient and greedy. Philip had never had to force himself on any boy, nor would he ever have dreamed of doing so to Amyntor's son. And of course he would see Hephaestion did very well out of it; he could take him on his next campaign, let him gain experience as a Page…

Philip's brows rose in surprise as Hephaestion sprawled lazily back on the bench, talking so loudly and cheerfully that his voice echoed through the window. It was Alexander himself sitting next to him – but an Alexander Philip had never seen before. Instead of the usual haughtiness he practised with his friends, he seemed quite diffident, his head tilted almost coyly away from his companion, listening passively while Hephaestion talked. He was blushing vigorously and his large grey eyes were as bright and darting as a virgin on her wedding night. Would wonders never cease!

Philip shook his head. With quick, firm decision he dismissed all his own romantic notions about Amyntor's son. There were so many ways he and Alexander could still fall out, maybe irrevocably. The last thing they needed was to argue over the favours of a boy. If Alexander wanted him, Alexander could have him – _would_ have him, if he truly was Philip's blood. Idly Philip wondered which one of them Hephaestion would have preferred. But such speculation was useless. Hephaestion did not have the choice.

Philip headed out of the building and down the steps. "Joy to you, Hephaestion," he called, smiling as the bigger boy sprang to his feet. "Oh!" he added, feigning surprise, "and to you, Alexander!"

"Joy to you, Father," Alexander said, stiffening. Hephaestion glanced at Alexander in surprise, then at Philip. So Alexander hadn't told him who he was. As soon as Philip saw the shadow pass over his son's face he knew he had made a mistake. Well what was to be done when the boy was so infernally sensitive! Philip could hardly have pretended not to know Hephaestion; if Alexander wanted to read things into it that were not there, Philip could not help it.

"You wanted to see me, young man," he said to Hephaestion, pressing ahead as casually as he could.

"Oh, yes, Sire, but…" Hephaestion turned sharply as Alexander rose and mumbled a parting salutation. "Alexander – I mean, Prince Alexander – "

Alexander turned with an air of cool politeness. "Yes?"

Hephaestion now looked both hurt and confused. "May - may I come and see you again?"

Alexander nodded so slightly that it was hardly an affirmation at all. "I must go now and dress for dinner."

Philip glowered at him. "Why don't you ask Hephaestion to join us? It's late, he must be hungry too."

"Oh – no, thank you Sire," Hephaestion said quickly, his cheeks flushing red. "I'd better go, my mother will be worrying about me."

Philip took a deep breath. "You've waited all day to see me, child, you might as well tell me what you came for."

So Hephaestion told him, quietly, miserably, without any of the enthusiasm he must have left home with. Even as he did so, his dark eyes kept straying in the direction Alexander had gone.

And of course Philip had to say no; partly because once he had made a resolution he had to stick to it; partly because he did not want Alexander to have the satisfaction of seeing his unworthy suspicions proved correct. As he watched Hephaestion make his way from the courtyard, Philip sighed. He could, of course, call Alexander to him and explain exactly who Hephaestion was – and who Amyntor had been – and why Hephaestion had come to him today. But what would become of the world if a man had to justify himself to his own son?

Enough was enough. Olympias – and Alexander himself – had done enough damage. The relationship between father and son had to be salvaged before it was too late. Alexander was Philip's only legitimate heir, he was too young to survive and hold on to power even if his mother and her cronies encouraged him to move against Philip and far too young to guarantee the succession beyond himself. And what was more, Philip… loved him. Loved him more than he cared to think about.

It was time for Alexander and Olympias to be separated.

TBC


	2. STUDENT

**BETWEEN FATHERS AND SONS**

**SUMMARY:** Alexander is now a student at Mieza, separated from the difficulties of court life. But then Hephaestion reappears… Hephaestion, meanwhile, has his own family problems to contend with….

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**CHAPTER 2: STUDENT**

Hephaestion approached the building with a mixture of excitement and reluctance. It had been almost a year since he had had his request to join Philip's army refused, almost a year since he had met Alexander. Philip had not said at the time why he was refusing Hephaestion, though he seemed a little more reserved when they talked and Hephaestion was conscious of losing something though he was not quite sure what it was.

If only he had known then what Philip had in mind for him – to be educated in a private school by Aristotle, a philosopher brought from Athens, along with the sons of Macedonian nobles! Finally he would be away from home, away from the almost constant disagreements with his mother and Laius, who seemed far too close these days for Hephaestion's comfort. He would get to meet the sons of men who stood at Philip's right hand, boys who would go on to be Royal Pages. And he would get to study with Prince Alexander himself!

Hephaestion had thought about Alexander a great deal since the day they had met. Though initially he had been puzzled and not a little upset by the prince's odd behaviour when they had parted, when he had grudgingly confided in Laius, unable to contain his curiosity, his kinsman had told him that there was tension between Philip and Alexander's mother Olympias and Alexander was frequently caught in the middle of it. So perhaps Alexander's sudden coldness had nothing to do with Hephaestion! All the same, he had not quite found the courage to seek him out again, had irritably stifled fantasies of the prince asking his father about Hephaestion and coming to find him. He had heard Alexander was proud and thought a lot of himself, but after his initial curtness he hadn't seemed like that; in fact, as they had talked he had seemed shy, even lonely. And he had _liked_ talking to Hephaestion; Hephaestion was certain of that.

As Hephaestion pictured Alexander sitting in his garden, framed by scented roses, intent upon his book, a small ripple of pleasure passed over him. Now they would be together and they could share as many books as they liked.

"Welcome, son of Amyntor," a steward emerged to greet him, "welcome to Mieza. Your teacher Aristotle will come to see you after breakfast, but for now you may join the other students at their meal…"

Many pairs of eyes shifted onto his face as he entered the breakfast room; he quickly focused on the one boy he recognised. "Joy to you, Prince Alexander," Hephaestion called brightly, "I'm very glad to see you again!"

Alexander stared at him in utter consternation for a long, embarrassing moment before glancing away, murmuring a reply. As if stricken by some sickness, he stayed seated, staring dully at his plate and making no move to introduce the newcomer to his fellow students. In the end it was down to a slightly older boy called Harpalos, who walked with a limp but was blessed with striking good looks, to make the introductions and show Hephaestion where everything was. As Hephaestion sat down to breakfast he caught Alexander looking at him. When he caught his eye, the prince quickly looked away.

oooo

Troubled and weary, Alexander was grateful to return to the privacy of his room. He had taken quickly to the idea of Mieza, of the independence, the peace, the chances it offered. He liked Aristotle and he liked being surrounded by boys more or less his own age. But now all that had been disrupted. That boy Hephaestion was here.

That day Hephaestion had blundered into the private garden had, while it had lasted, seemed as though it might be the happiest of Alexander's brief life. Finally it seemed as though he had found a boy with no agenda, no parents pushing him forward – he knew almost everyone at Court and he didn't know anyone called "Amyntor" – a boy who was clever and gentle and… and attractive too. And then in barely a moment it had all been ruined. Hephaestion was not simply a boy nobody knew; Alexander's father knew him already, maybe had even sent him to spy on his son or befriend him for some other purpose of his own! Or else Hephaestion really had come to see Philip, perhaps Philip had even sent for him. Why, if not because…

"Hephaestion…?" Alexander walked in to find the very boy sitting quietly upon the spare bed as if waiting for him. "What are you doing here? This is _my_ room!"

"I am to share with you, Prince Alexander," Hephaestion replied softly, his eyes downcast.

"There's been some mistake," Alexander said quickly, "I have a room to myself, it's – "

"I checked, there's no other spare bed." Hephaestion chewed his lip for a moment, and then got suddenly to his feet. "Prince Alexander, I don't know what I've done to offend you, I thought – I – the day we met – I really liked you! I thought we might be friends! I don't know what I've done wrong or what you've heard about me, but…" He shook his head. "This was a mistake. I'll ask to sleep somewhere else tonight and go back home in the morning, I don't belong here…"

"Hephaestion, wait!" In sudden panic Alexander caught the other boy's arm as he headed for the door. Hephaestion looked at him, his eyes burning with anger and pain. "Don't go, not yet…"

"Can't we be friends, Prince Alexander?" Hephaestion asked suddenly.

Alexander gazed wonderingly up into Hephaestion's face. He was such a handsome boy; more than that, his very presence seemed to affect Alexander in ways he was not prepared for. No other boy - no other person had ever disturbed him like this. Perhaps he was just another boy after all and Alexander was just using his doubts over his father as an excuse to avoid being too close to him. He didn't know exactly what he wanted, except that he didn't want Hephaestion to leave. "It's just "Alexander"…" he said slowly, "but yes… yes, of course we can. It's only… I don't really know who you are!"

"Is that all?" Hephaestion gave a short laugh. "I'm nobody special. My father…" he frowned slightly. "My father once worked for yours – represented him in Athens. When he – when he died, your father was kind enough to help us move back to Macedon. It's because of my father that I'm here, just like all the other boys I suppose. That's all there is to me."

But as Alexander gazed thoughtfully into Hephaestion's eyes, the young prince knew that was not entirely true. Hephaestion was certainly somebody special.

oooo

How quickly the precious days seemed to pass, Alexander mused as he made his way back to his room. All the impatience he had felt back in Pella seemed to fade away here in Mieza; here, amongst his friends, in the constant company of his dear Hephaestion, nothing seemed to matter beyond getting as much as they could out of each hour of the day, be it from their studies or their leisure time. Now, when he visited Pella, things seemed somehow more balanced – his father less threatening, his mother less overpowering. He no longer felt as though he was struggling to escape from the shadows they cast; he didn't have to keep proving he was not her son or his son but just _himself._ Here, everyone knew that. He was Alexander.

"Hephaestion, have you…" Alexander stopped in the doorway as he saw Hephaestion sitting on his bed, a crumpled letter in his hand, his face a mask of anger and misery. "Hephaestion…?"

Hephaestion did not look up as Alexander came to sit next to him. "My mother," he said very softly.

"Is she all right…?"

"Oh yes!" Hephaestion gave a bitter laugh. "She's fine! She's writing to let me know that she's to marry again! To her kinsman Laius! And she wants me to be there!"

"Laius… the one who came to live with you when your father…"

"I hate him! I hate them both!" Hephaestion twisted the letter into a ball and threw it across the room. "Why does she want to marry? At her age! For what? And why to _him?_ She says she's all alone, that now I'm here she can't decently live with Laius alone on the farm! She says soon I'll be a man, I'm not interested in the farm and I won't need her… it's all excuses! She says she wants my blessing, that my sisters approve! Well she won't have it!" He jumped restlessly to his feet, pacing over to the window. "I'll never give it to her, _never!"_

Alexander frowned. He did not think it was the time to talk about his own father's marriages or how much they worried him and his mother. He did not know how to offer advice on something which compared to Court intrigue seemed so mundane, yet to Hephaestion meant so much. Instead he went over to his friend and after a moment slipped his arms about him from behind, resting his cheek against the back of Hephaestion's shoulder. Was it wrong to feel such pleasure in holding him in his arms when Hephaestion was so unhappy? If so it was not something Alexander could help. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his hands off him; time after time he caught himself staring stupidly at the other boy, mesmerised by the way he moved, the sound of his voice, the shifting of the expressions on his handsome face. They were becoming men. They were beginning to experience desire. Alexander was not naïve. But it was so much more than that…

"I miss him, Alexander," Hephaestion said at length, his voice soft and tremulous; "I miss my father so much… I mean, his work kept him from us a lot but when he was home…" his voice broke and Alexander squeezed him tighter, "he used to make me feel so safe, he was so strong and clever and handsome and he would always find time for me, if I was naughty he didn't have to shout or beat me, he'd just look at me and show he was disappointed in me and it would be enough to make me cry! You have your father, Alexander, you know what it's like!"

"I…" Alexander chewed his lip uncomfortably, unable to think what to say. He hadn't told Hephaestion much about what went on at Court; he had not even wanted to think much about it since coming to Mieza.

"How could she just _forget_ him? How could she ever compare _Laius _to him?" Hephaestion turned in Alexander's arms, looking at him with such anguish that Alexander's heart ached. "How can I ever go home again with _him_ there? How can I even face my sisters? I'm alone," he cried, burying his face in Alexander's shoulder with a deep, shuddering sob, "I'm completely alone!"

"You're not alone, Hephaestion," Alexander whispered, stroking his hair. Gently he drew back, daring to reach out and touch Hephaestion's cheek. "You're with me and… and… I love you." He looked up defiantly into Hephaestion's eyes, ready to face his rejection. "I love you…"

Hephaestion stared at him. "You… you do…?" Like the sun breaking through clouds, brightness touched Hephaestion's face. "Oh, Alexander…!"

"I love you," Alexander repeated, leaning forward to gently, quickly kiss his friend's lips. "Come on, let's get ready for bed."

Frowning slightly, Hephaestion nodded, shedding his chiton and slipping on a loose night tunic. Alexander watched him in silence until he was about to get into his bed. "Not there, Hephaestion," he called softly, holding out his hand, "come in with me."

Hephaestion stared at him. "But I…"

"Come. I want to keep you in my arms tonight," Alexander said, gripped by a sudden, powerful need to protect him, "I want to know that you're sleeping safely…"

Without another word, Hephaestion did as he was told. Alexander sighed softly as the other boy settled into his embrace, realising guiltily as they lay together in the shadows that he wanted to do a lot more than protect him.

oooo

Hephaestion shut his mother, sisters and Laius out of his mind. He didn't want to think about them. Why should he? He didn't need his mother; he had Alexander to embrace and kiss him and tell him he loved him. He didn't need Laius trying to replace his father – he had Philip.

He occasionally found himself wishing he could have talked to the King about his mother's marriage; in the heat of his anger he had even considered begging him to put a stop to it. But he had begun to realise that Alexander was not comfortable when Hephaestion talked about his father, though he could not understand why. Was Alexander jealous, did he think Hephaestion was trying to come between them? Surely not. Still, there was something wrong. Perhaps if Hephaestion had grown up around the Court he would understand such things. As it was, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He and Alexander never discussed it; sometimes Hephaestion wished Alexander would be more open with him because he knew there were many things that troubled him and Hephaestion wanted to help. But then he would guiltily remember he had not told Alexander much about the true relationship between Philip and his own father or the nature of Amyntor's work for Macedon. Surely Alexander, as the heir to the throne, had a right to know such things, yet Hephaestion was not sure quite what one was supposed to say or not say to anyone at Court, and he heard such unpleasant rumours…

He should not question his fate. He had lost his father… and his mother. But he had gained Alexander. Beautiful, unstoppable, passionate Alexander, so very unpredictable. At times he could be stunningly arrogant, every bit the imperious little prince; his temper could be frightening. But when the two of them were alone, when he smiled at Hephaestion, when he cuddled him and told him he loved him, Hephaestion knew he would endure anything to keep him close.

Hearing the sound of horse's hooves, Hephaestion put aside his studies and hurried out into the grounds. Alexander had received a letter from Pella that morning and insisted on riding over there, despite Aristotle's objections. Hephaestion's happiness at his return diminished sharply as he saw the thunderous expression on his friend's face. "Alexander…?"

"It's not fair, Hephaestion!" Alexander cried, "he's going on campaign again and he insists I have to stay here! Again! He'll keep me back forever, he never wants me to get anywhere! Mother's right, he's doing it deliberately!"

"What did he say?" Hephaestion asked gently.

"What - ? Oh, some rubbish about how I should finish my studies, that there was more to being a future king than being a soldier – that I'm being given opportunities he never had… now I see why he let Aristotle locate us here! He's keeping me prisoner, away from everyone and everything that could help me! He's jealous because he knows I'll be a better General than he'll ever be!"

Hephaestion felt a rush of irritation. "Alexander, you're still only young, there's plenty of time…"

"No! There's no time! Soon he will have conquered everything and there'll be nothing left for me!"

"You shouldn't be so bitter, Alexander," Hephaestion told him severely, "you're lucky to have a father like Philip."

"Lucky!" Alexander shrieked.

"Yes, lucky! Lucky to have a father at all! Don't forget my father is dead!"

"_Well I wish mine was too!"_

The slap rang out across the courtyard. For a moment Alexander and Hephaestion stared blankly at one another, then Alexander slowly lifted a hand to touch the cheek Hephaestion had struck. His heart thumping, Hephaestion looked down at his own stinging hand, then at the welt rising on his friend's pale skin. Then with a cry of dismay he fled from the grounds, into the woods beyond.

TBC


	3. FRIEND

**BETWEEN FATHERS AND SONS **

**SUMMARY: **Alexander and Hephaestion now know they love one another, but love may not be enough when secrets are still being kept…

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I'm so glad everyone has enjoyed the first two chapters, thank you for all the reviews! **

* * *

**

**CHAPTER 3 - FRIEND**

The shadows were lengthening when Hephaestion finally returned to the room he and Alexander had shared with such happiness. It was all over. In a flash it was all gone. His new life here in Mieza, his friendship with Alexander, his patronage from Philip. He was now utterly alone.

Alexander had told him he loved him. Had kissed him. Had let him sleep in his bed. Increasingly Hephaestion had known that the love between them was more than the love of two friends. He had not been sure what he should do about it, if anything at all…

What was the point of thinking about it now? It was all finished! Alexander would never forgive him! He had hit a prince! He had hit _Philip's son! _Would they beat him? Would they execute him? Perhaps that was the kindest thing they could do! He had nowhere to go, no-one to turn to. He had a sudden pang to see his mother, even to see Laius who, after all, had always treated him with kindness –

Until he had betrayed him _and_ his father!

Shutting out such thoughts, Hephaestion dried his eyes and stepped into his room. Grateful to find it empty, he quickly went over to his trunk to begin to pack his things. He tried to keep his hands steady but he could hardly see what he was doing for the tears blinding his eyes. He couldn't stay here tonight, he simply couldn't bare it. He would go to see Aristotle as soon as he had packed; perhaps he might be able to tell him what his fate was to be, or at least where he could go.

He started violently as the door was thrown open. Alexander stood there, gazing at him expressionlessly. The emotions surging through Hephaestion were terrible. He longed for his friend, yet a dull anger remained. Those words had been so cruel…

"Alexander…"

Alexander said nothing. He simply knelt down beside Hephaestion and took him gently into his arms. It was not an apology, but it was close to it as the proud, headstrong prince could get. Thanking all the gods for his relief, Hephaestion clung tightly and whispered tender words of love.

oooo

It was becoming unbearable. Alexander could not be in the same room as Hephaestion without wanting him; when he saw him naked in the baths or the gymnasium he could hardly control the urges of his body. It infuriated him. He had always secretly considered himself above such animal lusts, so much more moderate and self-possessed than his father, yet where Hephaestion was concerned all of his control seemed to desert him. Perhaps it was because it wasn't just sensual desire, because he was deeply in love with Hephaestion too. But he knew his love was requited, was more certain about that than he was about so many things in his life.

And it wasn't as if Hephaestion found him physically repulsive. Some evenings, when they had been curled up together on Alexander's bed sharing a book or discussing their studies, they would look into each other's eyes and smile and then their reading would be forgotten as they spent seemingly endless moments of bliss kissing and touching and whispering their love-talk.

It had never gone farther than that. Alexander was a prince, of higher rank than his love, but Hephaestion was a little older and somehow Alexander hoped, even expected Hephaestion to decide when the time was right. Who had made the first move, Alexander wondered distractedly, Achilles the prince or Patroklos the older and wiser? Who was the lover and who the beloved? Even Plato and his friends couldn't seem to make their minds up about that. Alexander couldn't imagine his hero Achilles being passive in anything, yet maybe he had behaved differently alone with Patroklos. Maybe he hadn't wanted to be a prince then, just a boy in love. Alexander knew what his father Philip would say – Alexander the prince should take control, especially with a boy so similar in age. But then what if he tried for more and Hephaestion rejected him?

He did not want to touch himself, considering it lewd and vulgar. He knew the other boys did, they openly admitted it, some even admitted to touching each other, claiming that was so much better. Alexander knew some of this was only bragging but he could not put it out of his mind. He gave in occasionally, desperate for relief – when he did so he always imagined it was Hephaestion's touch instead of his own. He tried to picture Hephaestion also alone somewhere at that moment, also touching and wishing it was Alexander instead. But when it was over he felt empty, ashamed and lonely. And still he longed for Hephaestion's touch, though more, far more, he longed to be the one touching, to be giving Hephaestion pleasure, to know that when Hephaestion laughed and moaned in ecstasy he would do so because of Alexander.

As it did so often these days, Alexander's heart skipped as he walked into his room and saw Hephaestion seated on his bed, waiting for him. His friend smiled but Alexander's throat was tight and he could think of nothing to say. Making his way over, he leaned and slowly kissed Hephaestion's mouth. The other boy's lips parted invitingly and the kiss deepened. Hephaestion slipped his hand behind Alexander's neck, rubbing rhythmically. Alexander caressed his shoulders and arms, then, breaking the kiss with a gasp, sank into a crouch before Hephaestion's knees.

"Alexander, get up!" Hephaestion giggled, "what would people think if they saw you like that!"

Alexander did not answer. He stared down at Hephaestion's thighs, strong and firm and bronzed by the sun. He slowly stroked his hands across them, provoking a small gasp from his friend, then leaned closer and pressed his lips to the warm skin. He heard Hephaestion's breath catch, felt his long fingers begin to comb through Alexander's hair. With a rush of excitement and relief, Alexander continued to press soft, moist kisses to Hephaestion's thighs, letting his hands slide down over his calves and ankles before moving them slowly into Hephaestion's lap. "I love you so much, Hephaestion…" Alexander whispered, looking into his eyes; as he did so he slipped his hand under Hephaestion's chiton.

"Alexander…!" Hephaestion pushed his hand back, his brow creasing anxiously.

"Won't you let me make love to you…?" Alexander leaned up to pull Hephaestion down for a reassuring kiss. "Oh Hephaestion, I want you so much…"

"Alexander, I…" Hephaestion shook his head, getting to his feet and turning away to the window, "I don't know… it's… you and I…"

Alexander stared at him, his chest constricting. "You do still love me…?"

"More than anything!" Hephaestion cried, turning back to face him.

"Then…" Alexander swallowed hard. "Is it that you don't want me?"

"I want you," Hephaestion whispered, hanging his head, "I want you but… I don't know! What if this is wrong! You're a prince… you're…"

"Because I'm a prince, I can't take a lover?"

"No, but… maybe not me…"

"Not _you!_" Alexander fought down his rising temper with difficulty. Panic choked him. For so long he had hesitated and now, when he finally tried to claim what he wanted most, it was all going wrong. "Why not you? Have I ever made you feel unworthy? Have I ever treated you as an inferior?"

"Alexander…!"

"Do you know how hard it was to – to offer myself to you like this? You're the dearest friend I've ever had! I've put my trust in you…! I let myself believe that you… that you might…"

"Alexander, please! Please don't be angry! Please, you're all I have left!"

The note of fear in Hephaestion's voice brought Alexander up short. Taking a deep breath, he held out his hands to Hephaestion who seized them at once. In the next moment they were in one another's arms. "I'm not angry," Alexander murmured as he held the other boy close, "it doesn't change anything, my love, even if you don't…"

"But I _do,_ I…" Hephaestion gave a deep, shuddering sigh. "Just… give me time. I just need time…"

"I love you," Alexander said softly, because at that moment he did not know what else to say

oooo

He decided to look upon it as yet another act of self-mastery. He was _not_ like his father, he would control his desires, not let them govern him. He resolved not to press Hephaestion further, to let him decide when he was ready. It was not easy; nor could Alexander pretend it did not cause tension between them. But he would not lose the one boy he truly loved over something as base and transitory as physical desire.

He firmly put it to the back of his mind as he hurried down to the stables. One of his friends had said they'd seen King Philip himself riding up just a moment before and in spite of his many anxieties about his father, Alexander could not help feeling pleased and excited that he had come all this way to see him. Perhaps he had intended to surprise him, to take him out for the day. Perhaps he had come to take him on campaign at last!

Alexander stopped dead as he saw Philip standing in the stable yard. One of his bodyguards stood at some distance, but someone else was standing next to Philip. Even with his back turned to Alexander it was easy to recognise Hephaestion. He could not hear what Philip was saying to him but a moment later, to Alexander's astonishment, Hephaestion threw his arms about the King and embraced him tightly. Philip ruffled his hair, said something softly, then let him go and mounted his horse, thrusting down his hand to pull Hephaestion up behind him. They rode away without seeing Alexander, the bodyguard riding a few feet behind.

TBC


	4. LOVER

**BETWEEN FATHERS AND SONS**

**SUMMARY: **Alexander is tormented by the thought that he has lost Hephaestion to Philip. Hephaestion, meanwhile, has made an important decision about his relationship with Alexander - but it may be too late.

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**CHAPTER 4: LOVER**

Hephaestion gave a weary sigh as he dismounted from his horse and made his way into the dormitory. He felt lighter and happier than he had in what seemed such a terribly long time. Guiltily he realised he had not let Alexander know what was happening, but in the rush of it all, the terrible fear, the clash of emotions, he had simply lost all sense of time.

He had learned something in these past few days. He had learned just how precious and vulnerable love could be. He had learned that it was worth taking great risks for, even making great sacrifices. He had treated Alexander unfairly, but only because he was so afraid that it would be an act of betrayal. Now he realised it didn't matter. Alexander had offered him his love, had offered him _himself,_ and nothing mattered more than that, not even Hephaestion's honour.

He was overjoyed to find Alexander in their bedroom. Throwing his cloak onto the bed, he smiled warmly at his beloved and stepped toward him.

Alexander struck out explosively, hitting Hephaestion so hard across the side of the head that the other boy fell sprawling back onto his bed with a cry of shock and pain. Before he could recover, Alexander was upon him, twisting his arms back over his head and holding him down with the weight of his own body. _"Alexander – get off me, you're hurting me!"_

"Hurting_ you – don't make me laugh!"_ Alexander sneered, grabbing hold of Hephaestion's hair and jerking his head back, _"_What do _you_ know about pain? I gave you my _heart,_ I offered you my _body – do you know how hard that was? Didn't it mean anything at all? You whore!"_ he spat the word into his face, _"you accursed whore! Why not me? WHY NOT ME!"_

"_Alexander – stop – what are you…"_ Hephaestion's protest was cut short by the slap of Alexander's hand across his cheek. For a moment Hephaestion simply lay passive, stunned, his head aching from the first blow, utterly stupefied by Alexander's behaviour. But then his fighter's instincts took over. He pulled his legs up until his feet rested upon Alexander's diaphragm and then kicked out with all his might, sending the smaller boy flying onto the floor. Hephaestion immediately sprang up, ready to defend himself, but Alexander stayed where he was, hugging his knees to his chest and trembling violently. All at once he began to cry, softly and pitifully.

"_Why…?"_ Hephaestion heard him whimper, tearing at his own hair, _"why him…? Why not me…? I loved you, I loved you…"_

Hephaestion lay still on the bed for several moments. His body ached and he had begun to shiver as the initial shock faded, but the sound of Alexander's plaintive weeping seemed to recall him from deep within himself. "Alexander…?"

"_I would have given you… whatever you… wanted… needed… did you ever love me? Ever? At all…?"_

"Alexander, I love you more than _life!"_ Hephaestion slid off the bed and sank down beside him, ignoring his feeble struggles and pulling him into his arms, pressing him close. "By Zeus, what has possessed you? What is this about? You must know you're my only love, there's never been anyone else!"

"I saw you!" Alexander gulped, "I saw you with him! I saw you – in – in his _arms!"_

"_Who?"_

"_My FATHER!" _Alexander wailed, shaking his head from side to side, "_I saw you leave with him! All this time I loved you and you were – were his – "_

"_No!"_ Hephaestion pushed Alexander back, forcing him to be still so he could look into his eyes. "Alexander, where have you got this madness from? Your father just came to take me to my mother! He left me with her!"

"_Liar!"_ Alexander struggled against him, "my father is a king, not some messenger-boy! Why would _he – "_

"_Because they thought she was dying!" _Hephaestion shook him fiercely, anger gripping him for the first time. "She fell ill two weeks ago! She kept insisting I shouldn't be told, though Laius wanted to come for me, then she got worse! So he petitioned your father, who sent his own physician to her. When they thought she wouldn't survive, he came to get me himself. He didn't tell them, he just came."

"But – but I saw you…"

"I embraced him because I was upset, tormented by guilt, terrified of losing her… and grateful to him! I care for your father, Alexander, but as a nephew cares for a kind uncle, nothing more that! My father is dead, I have no-one else to care for me like that! When Father was killed, it was King Philip himself who came to tell us!"

"But _why?" _Alexander demanded, "what were you to him that…"

"I was _nothing. Nobody._ Just as I told you I was that day we met! My father, Amyntor…" Hephaestion hesitated, then pressed on, "my father was a spy for your father, in Athens – one of the best operatives he had. He was also a very good friend. Maybe more than that, I don't know. The way your father talked to me about him… anyway, he trusted him completely. He… never told me exactly how he died, but I know he was caught and executed and they never gave back his body. They must have… must have tortured him…"

"Hephaestion…" Alexander went limp under his grip for the first time, his grey eyes softening, growing human once again.

"But he never broke," Hephaestion declared with fragile pride, "King Philip told me he never broke!"

"And your mother…" Alexander shifted, seeming to realise what Hephaestion had been saying for the first time, "is she…"

Hephaestion blinked back tears. "She's all right. Laius said it was because I came, but I doubt that… she's strong… very strong… it made me realise so much, Alexander… I had no right to try and force her to live alone, until I fell in love with you, really in love, I didn't know how lonely it could be without love… but even then I told myself it wasn't the same for her. I was cruel to her and I'm so sorry for it. Laius is a good, kind man and he loves her."

"Gods, Hephaestion, have I really been so… so stupid…?" Alexander gasped, clutching at his own head, "when you went away with him… I couldn't help it…"

"But _why?_ Why would you even _think…?"_

"You don't know my father, Hephaestion," Alexander replied softly. "You don't know my _parents._ Here." He reached into his chiton and drew out a crumpled letter. "It's from my mother. I – want you to read it."

Hephaestion stared at him for a moment, then took it from him, still cradling Alexander in one arm. What he read, the accusations, the demands, the laments, stunned him. Had he really misjudged Philip so badly? Amyntor had trusted him – had even loved him. And he had treated Hephaestion with kindness and compassion well beyond his duty. There were two sides to any story; Hephaestion was beginning to realise when it came to Alexander's family there were many more sides than that. "You thought I was the new whore," he said with a wry smile.

Alexander winced. "It's… not all his fault. its mother too," he admitted reluctantly, "and maybe… me… but you weren't raised at Court, you don't know what it's like…"

"I still think a great deal of your father, Alexander," Hephaestion said resolutely, handing back the letter, "I owe him a great debt, he was… kind to me, more than he ever needed to be. And he _never…"_

"Would you have liked him to?" Alexander blurted out. "No, I mean – you don't want _me,_ so…"

"Alexander…" Hephaestion sighed deeply, taking Alexander's face in his hands, "I've _always _wanted you. But I thought I was taking advantage, betraying the trust King Philip placed in me by seducing his son!"

"Hephaestion, you haven't exactly _seduced…"_

"Alexander, I'm _nobody,_ just as I said! If it was just that you wanted to… to… amuse yourself with me, the way the other boys do with one another… my being nobody wouldn't matter. But when you – _you, _Prince Alexander, son of Philip, say you love me… when you offer me not only your heart but your precious body too… who was I to accept such gifts? What right did I have to take them after King Philip had already given me this much? My father was the hero, not me!"

"My body and my heart are mine to give," Alexander replied, "they remain mine alone. My parents can demand I accept the society of certain people, they can even decide who I marry, but they can't decide who I love, or who I want to love me. Hephaestion, why didn't you tell me this before?"

"From now on I will tell you everything," Hephaestion said gravely, "there must be no more secrets between us. We have to trust each other! If we don't, lies will drive us apart forever!" He took Alexander's hands in his. "I swear to you, Alexander, I will tell you the truth from now on, I will never keep things from you, whatever worries me or angers me, whatever I fear, I will confide it in you."

Slowly, Alexander nodded. "I swear it too," he said quietly, "I swear it in the name of Zeus." But as Hephaestion leaned to kiss him he drew back, fresh tears filling his eyes, and then pulled away, stumbling to his feet. "No, you mustn't. You mustn't. Gods, Hephaestion… how can you even want to _touch_ me after what I've done? Oh Zeus, when I thought that you and my father… I thought I'd go mad and I… but no, no, there's no excuse, no excuse!" Moaning softly he wrapped his arms about himself. "How could I even think such things? Even if you did prefer my father to me, how can I say I love you and still want to hurt you? Hephaestion, what sort of monster _am_ I? There are such demons in me, they frighten me and yet…"

"Have you already forgotten our oath, beloved?" Hephaestion stayed where he was, looking up at Alexander but not trying to touch him. "Whatever your demons say or do, you must tell me. Even if it's me they speak against."

For a long moment Alexander was silent. "You might hate me…" he finally said in a very thin voice, "if you knew just what I'm capable of… at least in my mind…"

Hephaestion drew in a deep breath. His father had warned him not to make promises he could not keep. He was inviting Alexander to trust him, to rely on him. Was he really strong enough for both of them? But then he tried to imagine turning his back on Alexander, tried to see himself running away from him or learning to hate him… "I could never hate you," he said resolutely. "Never."

Alexander nodded jerkily. When he finally managed to look at Hephaestion it was with a feeble, watery smile, though the fear and guilt still dulled his grey eyes.

Hephaestion was surprised by how calm he felt in comparison. That lightness he had felt when he had made his peace with his mother and Laius, like a man finally shedding a heavy, painful burden after so long, seemed to have grown stronger with every confidence he and Alexander exchanged. Perhaps he should still be angry and fearful, yet had they both trusted in their love, none of this would have happened. They both had so much to learn. "In the spirit of our oath," he said with gentle patience, "let me tell you another thing I realised when I… when I thought I might lose my mother…" he shuddered slightly. "I realised that when the Gods bless us with true love, love that's returned by the beloved, nothing else matters. Perhaps your father – and mine – would think it presumptuous and wrong of me to want to be your lover, but I'll risk that. I'll risk anything, Alexander, to share your bed, to touch you… to make love with you…"

"Oh, Hephaestion, do you really mean…?" Alexander brightened for the first time, but then his face crumpled and he threw himself down into Hephaestion's arms, sobbing as if his heart would break.

oooo

_It's better this way._ Alexander nodded to himself as he mounted Bucephalus. _It's safer this way. For both of us._ He turned to watch Hephaestion mounting his own horse Golden, feeling a stab of pain in his heart as his friend looked up and gave him a happy smile, perfectly loving, perfectly trusting._ Oh Hephaestion, I swear I'll never hurt you again… never raise my hand to you again… I'll die first. I can't be trusted, _he thought sombrely, _I can't master myself, my temper, my jealousy… it's ugly… I'M ugly, deep inside. Surely you can see that's why I can't let myself love you the way I want to? By Zeus, what if I'd really hurt you that day? What if I'd…?_

"You _do _want to come with me, don't you?" Hephaestion asked suddenly, his eyes fixed upon Alexander's troubled countenance, "I'm sure the others will understand if you don't think you…"

"Oh, no!" Alexander reached and clasped Hephaestion's hand. "Hephaestion, I'm honoured your family have invited me! I'm just… nervous…!"

Hephaestion relaxed and grinned, leaning over to kiss Alexander boldly on the mouth. Alexander felt a shiver of desire and longed to take the other boy in his arms. But he did not – he would not. Despite Hephaestion making it quite clear he was ready and willing to give himself to Alexander in spite of what had happened that night, Alexander was determined never to let it happen. His longing for his friend was worse than ever; erotic dreams plagued his nights and he could hardly be alone with him without a desperate need to do more than just touch or kiss him. But he held back. He had to hold back. As Hephaestion drew back he looked deep into Alexander's eyes, his own patient, hopeful; expectant. Alexander blushed and looked away. _How can you look at me that way?_ He wondered miserably as they began to ride in the direction of Hephaestion's home, _how can you possibly want to touch me?_

They were greeted by a small, noisy crowd of children when they finally reached the estate. Laughing, Hephaestion dropped from his horse and waded into the mob, weeding out one after another to present to Alexander, identifying various nieces, nephews and small cousins. At first they were shy of the prince; by the time they reached the house two were riding on Bucephalus while Alexander lead him along and the smallest of Hephaestion's nieces was declaring her love for him.

"Joy to you, Prince Alexander…" Laius emerged, smiling. "Welcome to our home. Joy to you, Hephaestion…"

"And to you, Laius." Hephaestion stepped forward and Alexander was surprised and pleased to see his friend embrace the older man with real warmth before leading Alexander inside to meet his mother, who blushed like a girl when she was introduced to the prince.

Within a few minutes she was mothering him shamelessly, she and her daughters bombarding him with seasoned meat pastries, honey cakes, fruit, cheese, fresh bread and wine while the men sat about talking of farming, politics and soldiering and the children vied with one another for Alexander's attention.

The sun was sinking below the horizon before Alexander escaped outside to draw breath, almost overwhelmed by the happy, bustling household, by the carefree, untiring children and the family who merrily talked over each other and seemed able to take part in several conversations at once. When he heard footsteps behind him he thought it was Hephaestion, but it was Laius who stood behind him, watching him with shrewd blue eyes.

"Too much?" the veteran suggested evenly.

"Your family overwhelm me with their generosity and their hospitality," Alexander replied gravely.

Laius gave a grunt of laughter. "They certainly overwhelm. Ah, the gods forgive me my ingratitude! I would not have them any other way. I had no family before, except the army. I loved Amyntor when he was alive… if anything I love him more now for trusting me with his dear family. And his beloved Helena. And," he added significantly, "his beloved Hephaestion, though it hasn't been easy for either of us."

"He loves you," Alexander said quietly, "he just finds it hard to say."

Laius shrugged. "I love him too. And find it hard to say," he added with a sigh, "probably for the same reason… Words cannot express what he means to his mother and me." As Alexander stared at the ground in a brooding silence Laius continued, "he writes often of you, Prince Alexander. Of his love for you, of his loyalty, his hopes for the future. He's a boy… and boys fall in love so easily… I remember being violently jealous of my cousin Helena marrying Amyntor because I wanted him myself! See how the fates tease us – now she's my wife! Most of the time these infatuations don't last… but other times they last a lifetime…"

"I love Hephaestion more than I love life!" Alexander gasped, "but I – I'm not worthy of him!" He met Laius' gaze at last. "I know what you'll tell me – that I'm a prince, that _he_ should be worthy of _me,_ but you don't understand, nobody does! I don't deserve his love, I don't deserve it!"

Laius said nothing for a very long time. He glanced back towards the house, where voices were getting closer to the doorway – Hephaestion's sisters and their families preparing to leave before the light failed. "Why don't you let Hephaestion decide that?" he suggested softly, then headed back indoors.

oooo

Hephaestion's room was small and simply furnished. A servant had laid a fire in the grate which combined with the lamps to give a soft, welcoming light and warmth. Alexander entered, starting very slightly as Hephaestion closed the door behind them. "But… where are _you_ to sleep?" Alexander asked, "I mean – if this is your room…"

"Here," Hephaestion said with a slow, suggestive smile, moving closer to him, "with you…"

"But I – your parents – and I…"

"Alexander…" Hephaestion sighed, drawing his friend against himself and running a hand through his hair, "don't you think you've talked enough today…?"

Alexander caught his breath as Hephaestion kissed him. _I can't, I won't, I mustn't…_ the thoughts pounded through his head, but at last all control gave way. He clasped Hephaestion tightly, kissing him the way he yearned to, finally letting his hands explore the body he adored. He sighed dreamily as Hephaestion shed his clothes and stood before him gloriously naked. "Hephaestion…" Alexander whispered hopelessly, "Hephaestion, I can't…"

"Come," Hephaestion breathed, drawing him to the bed and helping him undress, "haven't we waited long enough?"

"But what if… Hephaestion, I never want to hurt you, I…"

Hephaestion lowered his gaze briefly, then looked at Alexander with resolution. "What happened that night happened because we didn't trust each other. I trust you with my body, as with my life. Will you trust me too?"

Alexander closed his eyes and nodded. When he opened them again Hephaestion had already slipped under the blankets and was holding them back for Alexander to join him. When Alexander still hesitated, Hephaestion lay back on the pillows and opened his arms to him, gazing up at him with dark, feverish eyes that made Alexander dizzy with desire. "Make this the sweetest night of my life," he whispered, smiling.

Alexander stumbled into Hephaestion's arms, moaning softly as his bare body touched his friend's and he felt Hephaestion's hardness against his own. Never had he felt so clumsy, so unable to govern his own body, so utterly weakened and possessed by lust. But he did not need to be ashamed because there was love there too, burning like a bright flame between them. He did not need to be afraid because he felt no urge to hurt Hephaestion, only to love and worship him. He did not need to despise his own failing self control because Hephaestion had lost himself too, was even now grabbing at him and kissing him greedily and trying to stifle his own moans. And he did not need to worry that he was taking advantage of Hephaestion because he was doing what he had always wanted to do – giving pleasure to the boy he loved.

TBC


	5. KING

**BETWEEN FATHERS AND SONS**

**SUMMARY: **Several years have passed since Alexander and Hephaestion's first night as lovers. Now it's time to see if the vows of truth and trust they made to one another can stand up to a real test…

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Excuse the leap forward in time, but this last chapter is really the whole point of the story! So far as I know there's no particular evidence for or against Hephaestion spending time in exile, either with Alexander in Illyria or with the "famous five" after the Carian business, as I've never found any ancient references to Hephaestion's life before Troy, except retrospectively. If anyone else knows differently, please tell me! At any rate, this version of events suited my story!**

* * *

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**CHAPTER 5: King**

Macedon at last. He should have been overjoyed; perhaps he would have been had the circumstances been only slightly different. If all this had happened a different way… Hephaestion resisted a ridiculous urge to ride through Mieza on his way to Pella, disgusted by the burst of childish sentiment which suddenly afflicted him. Mieza… how seriously they had taken themselves then, worrying and squabbling over things which now seemed so unimportant. If only they had known how much more complicated life would be once they left their school behind, perhaps they would not have been in such a hurry to be men.

He was weary and so was Golden after three days of almost unbroken travel. He had saddled up, grabbing only what he needed for the journey, as soon as Alexander's message had reached him. Such a short message, so blunt, yet so full of pain. "_Father is dead. Please come to me, I cannot do this without you."_ It wasn't even signed.

Every day he had spent in exile he had longed for a note from Alexander or from Philip, telling him all was forgiven and he was free to come home. He had told his family not to write to him – it was simply too dangerous, the temptation for him or Alexander to try to slip in a note too strong. He had little doubt their letters would be monitored.

Perhaps his love for Philip should have soured into bitterness, but all he felt was sadness. Perhaps he should have learned to resent Alexander, but all he felt for him was aching love, fear and loneliness.

But for all of that, he now felt he would have lived out the rest of his life without gazing on Alexander's face rather than receive the note which had at last called him home.

As he reached the outskirts of Pella, he could not stop his thoughts wandering back to the day he had left. He could still hear Philip's voice…

oooo

…"Come in Hephaestion."

Hephaestion had been astonished that it was Philip himself who called him in, appearing at the door of his private office with a hard, unreadable expression upon his war-scarred face. For a few brief seconds Philip's weariness betrayed itself as he eased himself into his seat; the mask was back in place when he finally looked up at Hephaestion, who waited silently, eyes lowered in respect, cheeks warmed by shame. It had seemed somehow unreal while Alexander was planning it, even when they realised their plan had been discovered. Only now, facing the man he loved almost as much as his own father, Hephaestion felt sick with guilt and regret.

"I'm deeply disappointed in you, Hephaestion," Philip said at last. He did not shout, but that made it worse. Hephaestion winced internally and remained silent until he was asked to speak. "Of course I'm disgusted with the others too – Harpalos, Ptolemy, Erigyius, Laomedon and Nearchos were supposed to guide Alexander, not let him make a fool of himself – and myself and Macedon into the bargain. What, I wonder, is King Darius thinking now? What would you say Athens is thinking now, son of Amyntor?"

Hephaestion still said nothing. What could he say? That he had hated the idea from the beginning – that unlike the others he did not believe that Philip was arranging to marry his son Arrideus to the daughter of Pixodorus of Caria in order to replace Alexander? That he had told Alexander, because he had always sworn to tell him the truth, that he should speak to Philip directly instead of offering to marry the girl himself? That it had seemed as though some sort of mass hysteria had built among Alexander and his friends and sent them charging headlong into such a stupid plan which was bound to fail? Or what he really wanted to say – that he was sorry, that he had never meant to fail Philip anymore than to fail Alexander, that he had never forgotten his kindness, nor the duty he owed to his own father's memory? It was too late – too late for all of it.

Philip's expression softened very slightly as Hephaestion's misery obviously became apparent. "Why, Hephaestion?"

Hephaestion swallowed hard, embarrassed to find tears pricking his eyes. "I love him, Sire."

Philip nodded slowly. "That's what he said too. Actually he spoke far more eloquently in your defence than in his own. Otherwise he remains quite defiant. He insists you never wanted to betray me, that you wanted him to come to me first. Is that true, Hephaestion, or does he think so little of me that he fears I would put you to death just to spite him?"

"It's true, Sire… but it doesn't matter. I failed."

Philip grunted dismissively. "Alexander seems to think I can't appreciate such love as you share. I hope you have a little more imagination. The idea of losing that love, of having to sacrifice it to necessity, to ambition, seems very remote to Alexander now, but he'll learn. And when he does he'll suffer for it. But _you_ may yet suffer more." He drew in a deep breath and straightened in his chair. "At any rate, we'll soon find out. Alexander's other friends were chosen to guide and support him – they failed and exile is their punishment. You, Hephaestion, are to be Alexander's. Sending him into exile where he can plot more treachery is no solution; sending you away will be far more effective. You're to leave Macedon by sunrise tomorrow and you're not to return until I give you leave. And in case either of you gets it into your love-sick young mind to try to defy me, keep in mind that I'll be having you watched – by men almost if not as talented as your father. My guards will escort you to your mother's home to prepare – you are forbidden to see Alexander before you go."

"I understand, Sire… and…" Hephaestion forced himself to meet the King's gaze. "I'm deeply sorry to have failed you… and my father."

Philip frowned. "You made your choice, Hephaestion, just as Amyntor did. In a way he was guided just as much by love as you were…" An oddly tender look passed across his face and quickly vanished. "But take this thought with you into exile – I could have presumed on your attachment to Alexander from the moment I saw how smitten he was with you. I could have forced you to spy on him, even to work against him. No doubt you think you could never have done such a thing, but no man thinks that until he realises his choices affect not only him but his family as well. You might find such ideas ruthless, but Alexander understands them and so did Amyntor. I never did it, Hephaestion," he added, his one good eye burning with real anger, "I never even thought about it. And not just because, in spite of what my faithless son thinks, I love him very much. Do you understand?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Hephaestion nodded. He had been glad that Philip dismissed him just then, because he had not wanted the king to see him, a grown man and a veteran of war, struggling not to cry like a repentant child…

oooo

"Hephaestion!" Alexander's grey eyes lit up when Hephaestion entered the room, tired and dusty from his long journey. Alexander rose quickly, took a step forward, then hesitated. He might be a king now, but he still hadn't learned to stop himself blushing like a boy. Hephaestion sensed his lover had wanted to throw his arms about him but when he didn't relax his stiff, respectful stance or let his face soften to a smile, Alexander held back. Hephaestion felt a stab of pain but ignored it. Seeing Alexander again he was moved by his beauty, his grace, his very presence all over again, but he ignored that too.

Finally he spoke, his voice hoarse from the dust he had swallowed on the long ride. "Do you still remember our vow, Alexander?" he asked. Perhaps he should not speak to him so familiarly now Alexander was a king, but if this conversation went badly it might not matter – he could be riding away from Macedon as quickly as he had come. "We promised – no secrets. Did you do it?"

Alexander stared at him unflinching. _"No."_

"Did you consent to it? Even by not acting against it?"

"_No!"_ Suddenly Alexander lowered his eyes. "But I think it was done _for _me."

Hephaestion released the breath he had been holding. He knew what Alexander was trying to say; he knew who he silently accused. For now, that was enough. Slowly, almost wearily, he held out his arms and Alexander stepped forward but did not accept his embrace. Hephaestion could actually see him trembling. Smiling sadly, he lowered his head to kiss Alexander's lips, but the young king turned his head away.

"I need to say something, Hephaestion," he said very softly. "I need to say something I couldn't say in Mieza. What I said then… about my father… I was wrong. I'm – I'm _sorry._ I didn't mean it…" A moan of despair broke from him. "Oh gods, Hephaestion, forgive me, how could I know then? How could I know how it feels? It hurts, it hurts so much…" At last he sank, weeping, into Hephaestion's embrace. "What I said… I don't wish it… _I don't wish it…!"_

12/1/06


End file.
